"After the ritual, there will be no one left to rescue."
Tasslehoff could hold his tongue no longer. "He's absolutely right. I don't know why anyone is balking. I heard Balcombe talk about how delighted he was to be able to offer up Rostrevor's soul, and he's just the son of a knight. Think what he must be planning now that he's caught a real princess! I vote that we get going right now."
Tanis shook his head. "No one brought it to a vote, Tas. I think our hosts will make this decision for us."
Nanda looked each squarely in the eyes in turn. "The woman, Selana, has no special value to us. We would protect her if we could, as Hoto tried to do, but she is not our real concern.
"The wizard, Balcombe, on the other hand, is a potential problem. We know he uses the mountains to hide his evil activity from people in Tantallon. By itself this does not concern us, either, because his actions, whatever they are, have brought no harm to our territory. We know from experience that eventually this will change. Even if he abandons this region and never returns, his empty lair will attract monsters that will try to prey on us. It is best that we remove him before he brings additional trouble.
"If this seems harsh to you, simply know that it is our way. By such means we have protected ourselves against the outside world for thousands of years, and we will continue doing so as long as we must. For the moment, your interests and ours coincide and we can work together. Your weapons have been brought up. Make yourselves ready and we will leave at once."
Tanis, Tas, and Flint turned around and saw that phaethons who had entered the room during Nanda's speech carried the trio's weapons. Flint picked up his long-handled, double-headed axe and heavy fighting knife and thrust both through his belt. Tanis tossed his quiver of arrows over one shoulder, slung the long strap supporting his short sword scabbard over the other shoulder, and picked up his bow, rubbing the oiled leather grip and the smooth wooden curves. Tas snatched up his hoopak and dagger and stuffed several slices and chunks of Cele's delicious bread into his pouches. In moments, all were ready.
Nanda instructed Tanis, Tas, and Flint to step to the door. One phaethon stepped up behind each and wrapped his arms around his passenger. Then, before anyone had time to protest or panic, all three phaethons leaned forward and pushed themselves and their living cargo off the platform. Air whistled past Tas's ears and locks of his own hair flapped in his face as he plummeted toward the ground, then heard the distinctive whoosh of the phaethon's wings igniting and felt his weight pressing against the flyer's arms as they leveled off. As much as Tasslehoff wanted to rescue Selana, he hoped Balcombe's lair was a long way off.
Chapter 17
Blu
Selana awoke to the smell of burning dung, flames fanning her face. Still, she shivered from a cool dampness. Her blue-green eyes, dulled from exhaustion, fluttered open, then widened in astonishment.
The sea elf was alone, propped up on the dirt floor of a large, rectangular cavern lit by only the low-burning stick-and-dung fire smoldering in its center. The ceiling was low for a cavern so large, perhaps only twelve feet high. In the dim light she could barely discern the outlines of narrow openings to the far left and far right of her field of vision.
Where am I? she wondered. The last thing I remember is swimming ... in some ice-cold water ... I cut myself . . . and returned to elven form.
Selana winced as she remembered the hideous gash in her left arm—she had fainted from pain and exposure to the elements. She was surprised to realize the wound no longer ached. Had she been unconscious long enough to heal? She tried to touch the wound, to explore its extent, but discovered she could not move her hands.
Only then did Selana become aware of the feel of cool, weighty metal on her wrists. She saw that her arms were gripped by manacles on two-foot lengths of linked chain, attached to the rough pink granite walls. She had a hazy recollection of hallucinating about a stone minotaur, vibrant red veins defining its humanoid body and brutish bull's head. Had the creature been real? Something had brought her here. Where was it now?
Selana twisted futilely, relieved, at least, that the chains allowed her to stand. She wished to the gods she could make sense of her circumstances, but she could recall nothing after huddling among the rocks near the stream. Her injured arm was cured through some means, but every muscle in her body ached.
Suddenly the sea elf heard a heavy scraping, dragging sound from the narrow opening to the left, accompanied by low, guttural muttering. Her heart jumped in fear. With her hands restricted, she felt horribly vulnerable and cast about for a way to defend herself. All she could do was kick her feet, and not very far at that. The first syllables of a protection spell echoed through her mind, but she was too drained to remember the entire incantation.
The scraping-shuffling sound stopped and a huge head poked out of the opening and looked about, squinting in the dim light. A black-eyed gaze locked on Selana. The creature crept forward.
The sea elf could see that the thing was an enormous humanoid—a giant. Crawling on its knees in the tunnel, it was so large it could barely squeeze through the opening. Even in the larger cavern it was unable to stand to its full height and was forced to squat. Selana guessed it must have stood at least sixteen feet high and weighed several thousand pounds. It waddled toward the sea elf slowly
